The Return
by Elissa Alejandra
Summary: Sequel to Guardian & A New Life. Sarah has no memories of the Goblin King, and fractured memories of Gotham. Adapting to the outside world again is not easy, but Sarah manages to befriend new goblins, a mysterious woman known as Zee, and a stranger who is closer to her than she knows. But a threat from the Labyrinth lurks, and one man from her past is the only one who can stop it.
1. Cause and Effect

Good Lord, I'm back! Wow! I started this crazy fanfic over 10 years ago and I always intended to see it complete, in fact it was always going to be a trilogy to me. But what an eventful and harrowing and beautiful time the last decade has been for me. I recently went back and read the last few fics and thought, huh, I really didn't like Sarah in the beginning. But lo, she sort of evolved from a Mary Sure into a somewhat 'normal' and even flawed character. Which is what I like. I've also been out of the community for a while so if anyone has any good Labyrinth fics, please send them my way! Also, if you have not read the previous fics A New Life and Guardian, you should probably go back and read those first, otherwise you will be thoroughly confused reading this. So without much further ado, the finale begins.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Labyrinth or DC.

* * *

Batman reached into his utility belt and sprayed plastic onto the glass. He let it harden then quickly punched the window through. It broke quietly and he slipped inside.

They were on the floor below him – Russians – perhaps a dozen, maybe less. It was a new meeting place for them to rendezvous, refuel, and regroup. But it was the absolute last of them. He hadn't completely dismantled the Russian mob after Yuri was killed. The Russian mob leader Yuri took orders from was overthrown soon after by Chechen and his men, believing his time had finally come. The body was never found.

Just a handful compared to the immensity of their numbers just a few years ago. If he could take these men down, find Chechen, and his supplier, it could be over. A massive mob takedown in less than five years, it could be done.

The building he entered was still under construction. Floors were still missing, ladders, pipes, and buckets were strewn everywhere, railings and the foundations were still exposed. The floor between where Batman stood and the group of armed men was translucent. As a modern design, the floors would remain the same, but they weren't finished, and they masked a tremendous gap that would cause him to fall several stories with one false move.

Batman crouched from above and waited. They were exposed here, and the final count was eight men, he could easily take them all down. He slammed his utility belt, releasing a high energy batarang which hurled itself down to the wall closest to the men. It lodged itself in and before the men could react, a sharp explosion of sparks from the outlets and the few light fixtures that were turned on. The room went pitch black.

Immense. Empty. The frantic yells of the men caught unaware. They immediately knew who lurked in the shadows.

He flew in like a wraith and weaved through the bodies, dodging punches, delivering blows – an unstoppable force of fury and power. He nearly had them all. Skilled fists and sharp senses kept his adrenaline up. He had no use for guns, his body was its own weapon.

A rain of gunfire suddenly burst around him. He reacted quick enough to duck and leap for cover. He took a moment to catch his breath.

" _Escalation,"_ he thought.

Bigger guns and more bullets. He didn't count the small group with the heavier artillery. The only thing he had left to do was call it in to Gordon. He took a long breath before reaching into his belt again and took out a small black ball. He threw it up in the air behind him, and as expected, it was shot to pieces. It burst into a cloud of gray gas, covering the air in a thick blanket of smoke.

The gunfire stopped and he shot his grappling hook into the air. He became airborne but only until a few stray bullets bit into the was already too high and swung over too far over an exposed floor. Batman twirled on the rope until it snapped, he was sent tumbling in mid-air so his hands now extended before him. He dropped one floor but was able to grab one of the steel girders in the darkness.

He had enough leverage to swing over a banister, plummet out an unfinished wall, and into the darkness of night.

* * *

He passed quietly through the penthouse, the pads of his bare feet barely audible in the hallways. Shed of his armor, he was Bruce Wayne again, though his eyes remained bright and almost glowed in the still darkness. Dawn would cut through the horizon soon, it was that still moment when the night was at its darkest before the light.

Bruce pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside, sighing as he did so. Sarah lay sleeping, her bare arms and legs splayed over the bed, her black hair spread over the pillows, and her mouth slightly open. His eyes slowly took her in, but he wasn't smiling. She was sweating at the brow, her chest rose and fell too sharply, and the sheets had been thrown aside. Bruce spent enough nights with her to know that she had had her nightmares again. They were night terrors, really. Sometimes she could wake herself out of it, and sometimes she couldn't. Tonight she was able to wake herself up and fall asleep again fitfully.

On the nights when Bruce left, Alfred came to her, woke her, and stayed with her until she fell asleep again. When Bruce woke her, they would stay awake nearly the rest of the night, both silently remembering how the nightmares began. On nights like this they would eventually reach for each other and find comfort in their love-making. It was the comfort of another person in the dark, of not being alone, and of grasping for meaning of why they still _felt_ alone. In the end, the comfort was short-lived.

Sarah had changed considerably over the last year. He blamed himself for some of that, he had not always been so kind to her; taking her as a hostage in his own home. Then kidnapped and tortured by Russians, nearly killed by Dr. Crane, and finally her memories were stolen away. They were memories of… whoever it was he rescued her from. Although, he wasn't really sure that was a rescue, she clearly wanted to be with him. But this man, this being, pushed her away. He didn't want to bring someone he loved into the darkness with him, even though Sarah didn't see it that way.

It broke his heart in a way, that this man could deny Sarah while she begged for him, and knowing that Sarah could never love him in that way. He knew she could never beg for him like that.

The events of that night were seared into Bruce's memory, but Sarah's mind was erased of all traces of… him. Bruce still didn't even remember his name or if Sarah had even told him. All he could know was that there were forces and beings beyond his imagining, and that Sarah was somehow a part of it. He didn't really know how or why, and that made him on edge. He didn't like not knowing secrets about a person who had become close to him, especially if that person didn't even remember their own secrets.

The space between them was growing, and he couldn't stop it. He didn't know if he even wanted to.

Bruce silently left the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Sarah walked out of the elevator, into the brightly lit penthouse, and hung her scarf up. She glimpsed Alfred walking in the kitchen. "Good morning," she called to him.

"Oh, good morning, miss!" Alfred walked into the hallway to greet her. "You left quite early this morning. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Just fine, Alfred." Sarah kissed his cheek, adding a profound smack. "I'll take my breakfast in the living room."

"Very well, miss. You do know it's 1:30 in the afternoon?"

She turned around, still walking toward the living room. "Is it that late?"

Alfred didn't answer her, but she shrugged nonetheless. She was enjoying a crisp, almost snowy morning in the city because she felt safer than she had in almost a year. There were no threats, no mob after her, and no Russians. Though she still felt she had to look over her shoulder and down every cross street she passed. She wasn't completely able to walk down the streets with as much confidence as she had before. But the unique vibrancy of Gotham was calling to her, and she couldn't ignore it any longer. At the very least, she reveled in her anonymity on the city streets once again.

Sarah grabbed the remote and turned the television on. The screen flashed to a tri-fold of political commentators on GNN.

"Batman is a major cause of crime in Gotham," a blustering, bald man commented. "Escalation has gotten out of control because of him. These street thugs and crime lords seek him out hoping to prove themselves in violent conflict. Batman does not deter crime, he invites it. What is the Dark Knight's credo? Batman does not kill? No! It's only a matter of time before he does. Batman ultimately belongs behind bars, not his morally disadvantaged victims."

A woman interjected, "Gotham is proud of an ordinary man standing up for what's right…"

"You're talking about the kind of city that idolizes a masked vigilante, he's already breaking the law!" The bald man started to turn red in the face. "No, what Gotham needs are heroes who are elected officials, not a man who thinks he's above the law."

"Exactly. But, who appointed the Batman? We did. All of us who stood by and let scum take control of our city."

She switched off the TV. The screen went black to reveal a reflection in the glass: Bruce, just behind her, frowning.

She tossed the remote down. "I don't have to say don't listen to them because I know you don't." She turned to him. He was looking at her with tired eyes, though they were sharp as always.

"What if they're right?" It wasn't a rhetorical question, he was asking her honest opinion.

"And what if you'd done nothing?" She walked toward him until she was close enough to see the hard line of his cheekbones that were becoming more prominent. "Then nothing would have changed. Nothing would have shaken anyone out of apathy. You inspired people to stand up for what's right, so much so that now political figures are finally turning their focus back and fighting for a second chance."

He looked down, a scowl was beginning to grow on his mouth. "Perhaps people are becoming too eager. They're not trained or disciplined for combat. They fight with guns and makeshift bombs."

"And you'll figure out a way to deal with them too," she assured. "One thing at a time."

He nodded slightly, and turned away, but winced when he did so.

"You're hurt," Sarah came to his side and looked him up and down. "What happened this time?"

He didn't look at her. "Just a bad landing."

"Right…" she said, unconvinced, and ran her eyes over his face. He kept his gaze averted from her. He wasn't even trying to hide the lie from her. But it was evident he didn't want to argue with her either. He was in pain, she could see that, but he would recover soon enough. "No sparring today?"

He shrugged, indifferent. "If you want."

"No, it can wait. You need to rest."

Ever since the night the theater burned down, Bruce had insisted he train Sarah in self-defense. She agreed almost immediately. For two hours a day, almost every day, he taught her how to throw punches in close quarters, stay light on her feet, and deliver quick uppercuts and jabs. She quickly developed balance and power from learning stances and strikes, and she just started learning hold-downs and choke-holds. But what Bruce focused on the most was honing in on her incredible strength. Sarah could effectively break a doorknob by pushing down on it with the lightest force. If she wasn't careful, she could break a man's bone with a hard clench of her fist, like she had done to Yuri. Bruce had even tapped out several times when she got too carried away during their training. But that was the focus of her drills – knowing when and how to use her strength when she still hadn't come to terms with it.

Bruce began to walk down the hallway, but something had been nagging at Sarah all morning.

"Bruce..." she called to him. He stopped and turned to her. She crossed her arms over her chest, uneasy and nervous. "I had a nightmare last night. It was about him."

Bruce furrowed his brow and came toward her. He was suddenly tense with concern. "Who?"

She didn't like to say it, she didn't even like to think of him. He was vile, demented, and terrifying. "… Joker."

Bruce stopped in his tracks, not sure if he had heard her right.

They didn't say anything to each other for a moment. The Joker had not even reached the news yet, and Bruce certainly didn't tell her anything about him. How she could have known about the Joker was unheard of, at least for anyone else. But Sarah was not a normal person, they both knew that.

Just from her dream, Sarah knew that the Joker went beyond common criminals and even the Russians. He was on a completely higher level of crime and disorder. "What are you going to do?" she asked him, her eyes wide. There didn't seem to be a motive or an agenda to the Joker, and Batman was nothing if not strict about following codes and reaching a cause for every move an enemy took. But there was simply nothing there, just fire and chaos.

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"I have a horrible feeling..." she shuddered. She couldn't finish her sentence. She hadn't felt this fear since the Scarecrow. She pushed the image of a burlap mask from her mind, but another white face entered, and it was just as horrifying…

"It will be alright." He reached out and stroked her hair gently. "You're safe with me."

She pushed his hand away. "I'm worried about _you_. What if you're pushed too far this time?"

"I won't," he said firmly. "I never am."

"How do you know? You have never faced someone like this before."

"I know. But let me worry about him," he brushed his fingers over her cheek. "Don't trouble yourself, you've already been through too much." He began to lean in close to her face. "Don't worry about me," he said, brushing his lips along hers. Sarah tensed slightly, as much as she wanted to kiss him back she couldn't help but notice that he wasn't troubled at all by her dream. Though she couldn't remember the details, she woke up with visions of a scarred white face, yellow teeth, and a gruesome red mouth. It was truly chilling, and she couldn't understand why he wasn't taking this more seriously.

Sarah pulled back. "Don't try and brush this aside so easy. You know I've never worried this much. He's _different_ , Bruce."

He sighed into her neck. "I know," he said. "But like you just said, I'll think of something, I always have."

Sarah tensed again when he placed an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. She didn't like this indifference coming from him. The images weren't something to be shaken off or ignored – they were different from common vigilantes in costume.

"Relax," he said, laughing slightly, "I just want a kiss." He moved a hand onto the back of her neck and pushed her face closer to his so that he could kiss her with more ease.

She pulled back again and frowned. They gazed at each other for a moment. Stubborn and immovable. They could go on like this for hours until eventually one of them gave in. Finally, Sarah sighed and raised her hand to his face, moving a strand of his hair aside. She shook her head and forced a smile – how could she say she was having doubts? He wasn't going to listen to her now.

He sensed her resignation and took her head in his hands and kissed her, deeply. Sarah returned the kiss, pressing herself against him. She then broke the kiss and took one of his hands in hers. Pressing her lips against his bare fingers, she looked up at him. Her eyes were full of desire. Bruce had the power to make her forget about the world sometimes, why not let him for a little while?

"You just want one kiss?"

* * *

Her long, black flowed over her shoulders in soft waves. She wore a magnificent dress of chocolate red, embellished with iridescent sequins and beads. Dark gold earrings completed the earth-toned ensemble. She turned and admired herself further; her eyes glittering as she moved. One thin slit on the right side of her dress went all the way to the middle of her thigh, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her bare leg. Sarah's body had certainly changed while learning self-defense, she was leaner and more flexible, it gave her an extra boost of self-confidence she hadn't possessed in a long time.

She was smoothing out the fabric of her gown when Bruce appeared in the doorway. Sarah immediately sensed his presence and looked up anxiously before he said a word. Bruce's eyes had widened at the sight of Sarah in the glittering dress, but then quickly regained his composure. His eyes became hooded and he leaned against the doorway more languidly, his hands in his pockets. He wore a sharp formal tuxedo, complete with a bowtie. She would have preferred him in his sweats and plain t-shirts. But they obviously had to put on appearances tonight. Her eyes looked over him closely, but she could not pick any kind of emotions from him, it was as if he were blocking her. He was good at that, and it always made her a little nervous.

"You don't approve?" she asked with raised brow.

He finally smiled, and it was genuine. He nodded his head as he looked her up and down. "Where did you get this?"

"It was given to me."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"I swear it was! Some designer who wants her dress to be seen at the gala. And I'm giving it back as soon as we get this over with." She turned and looked over her shoulder at the low cut of her back.

Bruce half-smiled at the way she looked over herself. There was an air of vanity to her that was not in her any other time. He finally held his hand out to her. "Come, my lady. We can't keep the court waiting."

Sarah smiled and made a small curtsey before answering, "Yes, my Lord."

* * *

The first time they made love was the night of the worst storm Gotham City had ever seen. Cars overturned, streets were flooded for days, people were without electricity for hours, and the trains were out of commission for a week due to the debris. No one was injured, but Alfred would later tell Sarah that the thunder had shook even the penthouse loft. But none of this made any difference to them. The lightning had been the light to see each other with. Their cries seemed to echo after each thunder strike.

Yet however great and intense their desire for each other, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that that was the only true thing between them. Bruce remained hidden from her. She knew one of his greatest secrets, but she could never bring the real Bruce out for very long. He was only vulnerable with her once, and he kept an invisible shield around him ever since then. She tried to be open with him, hoping that he could do the same for her, but he never unburdened himself to her again. He reverted to closing himself off and was only available to her on the surface.

Alfred drove them the short distance through Gotham's Diamond District – Gotham's most affluent neighborhoods. Bruce sat back with a heavy sigh. Sarah could at least see that he was not looking forward to the gala tonight; he despised socializing with the wealthy. They both agreed that they were nothing but spineless cowards who were too busy making fools of themselves, trying to show how much better they were than those around them. It was quite tiresome having to deal with them, and they were both not looking forward to the experience.

Bruce acted like the irresponsible, superficial playboy who lived off his family's personal fortune and the profits of Wayne Enterprises, however, Bruce was also known for his contributions to charity, notably through the Wayne Foundation, a charity devoted to helping the victims of crime and preventing people from becoming criminals. This was one of those fundraisers, and it was more trouble than it was probably worth.

Once Alfred pulled up to the entrance of the great hall, Bruce helped Sarah out of the car and guided her through the mass of people huddled outside. They were quick to make their way through, because once people started recognizing who they were, everyone crowded closer for a better look. Once inside, Sarah took his arm more graciously and proceeded down the hallway. She pushed her hair away from her face and nervously fingered at the beaded material of her gown. This was the first time they were going out as a couple. People knew they were loosely connected when he threw the Arabian themed party nearly a year ago at his penthouse. But now that Bruce's PR confirmed to the tabloids that he and Sarah were an item, every one of these strange people watched and looked and pointed their fingers at her.

Bruce turned to Sarah beside him, saw her fidgeting with the dress, and grinned, "Don't pay any attention to them. They all thrive on envy."

Sarah smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

As they entered through a large pair of doors, Sarah's breath caught in her throat. The gala was over the top golden glitz. A kind of Versailles meets punk couture. The ballroom was packed with people sipping exotic cocktails and munching on complicated hors d'oeuvres. The ceilings with huge, gold and black chandeliers were so high above Sarah's head that she hardly see the top, they were almost lost in the shadows. Aerial acrobats with pink hair and serving girls with filled champagne glasses in their wide skirts drifted through the hall, as music and conversation buzz remained steady and lighthearted. And into this zoo walked Bruce and Sarah.

There was an initial barrage of flashing photographers crowding for a perfect photo for the gossip tabloids, but then ceased once Sarah and Bruce sauntered past the foyer designated for the Press. Though Bruce had her arm, she advanced hesitantly and looked around for any familiar face in the crowd, but she didn't recognize anyone. People were wearing just about any kind of formal wear tonight. She saw the most expensive and beautiful gowns blended with sober evening wear and the most outrageous trash. She then saw that people were staring at her and she felt a shiver of discomfort. She could feel them appraising her and trying to get into eye contact with her.

"…she was an actress… I see she's found a new act… she's pretty, in a peculiar sort of way… I wonder how long she'll last…"

She heard everything that was being said about her and clung to Bruce, grasping his arm and not realizing how hard. Bruce began to turn to her, but just as he did, an older man with white hair approached the two. "Bruce," he began, "so glad you came!"

Bruce smiled and regarded the man with a nod of his head. "Lucius, I'm glad to see you here too. This is Sarah," he turned, presenting her, effectively returning the flow of blood through his numb arm.

The soft-spoken man known as Lucius looked at Sarah with a warm smile. "So, you're the one causing all of the trouble?"

Sarah laughed nervously, but she could tell that he was only lightly teasing her.

Bruce relaxed a little with Lucius next to him, Sarah could tell that Lucius was someone Bruce trusted and even admired from the way he looked at him. Lucius was an older, African-American man who seemed to like Bruce too, the real Bruce Wayne. Sarah was even starting to think from the casual and knowing tone of their conversation that Lucius knew just as much as she did… All the board members had their doubts about Bruce's ability to settle down and run a corporation, but really, he was quite the businessman. He had a vision, like his father, and he knew how to follow through with it. There was more to Bruce Wayne than flashy cars and repugnant women. Lucius seemed to be one of the few who knew that about him.

"… you want me to run the data with you now, Bruce?"

"The sooner I know the better I'll sleep."

"I can't believe that you'd want to leave a beautiful woman alone," Lucius turned to Sarah, "and would want to be deserted by her date so quickly."

"I can take care of myself," she said, looking at Bruce.

"She certainly can," Bruce agreed with an admiring tone.

"Go, I'll be fine," Sarah dropped her arm. "It sounds important."

"It is," Bruce leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I won't be long."

Lucius winked at her and both him and Bruce walked away into the crowd.

Sarah sighed and grabbed a glass of champagne from a girl with a ridiculous Marie Antoinette wig. She sipped at it slowly and let her eyes roam over the ballroom. A few people would glance her way and trade words, about her dress, about her hair, her figure, her date… it went on and on. She cursed this sharpened sense of hearing she had. It would have been better if she could only hear the music. So that's what she focused on – she recognized the atmospheric synth pop of New Order – perfect for how she felt about this party. She sighed again, closed her eyes, and began to relax under the electric sway of the music. The voices were tuned out and all she could feel was the music filling her mind. The energy ran up her arms and legs until she felt a snap in the air, a changed energy.

She opened her eyes and the room was suddenly dressed in filmy white, huge chandeliers were dripping from the ceiling. People dressed in silk and satin, taffeta and lace, brocade and leather twirled around her dizzily.

"Oh no…" she whispered, "please not this, please not now."

Just recently and every so often, her world would completely change, and she would find herself in the most peculiar places from her time in the Underground. The hedge maze, the goblin city, the oubliette. They lasted only seconds but it bothered her a great deal, because though for over ten years she had become accustomed to strange occurrences and friends who were dwarves, monsters, and foxes who thought they were knights, she didn't like that her world would completely change with the Underground. She feared it would last far too long and would become lost or trapped, and she couldn't control it – that was the worst.

A haunting melody filled the entire room. All around her masks both beautiful and grotesque turned her way, winking and laughing. Sarah spun, looking behind her. She felt she'd been here before, when she was younger, and then it had been strange and beautiful, but frightening. Now it was merely beautiful and strange, but where before she'd felt out of place, now she felt only annoyed because she was always looking for something here.

"Toby…" she thought. But no, he was home safe with her father and step-mother.

The taunting laughter and the wicked grins. The feeling that they all knew something that she did not. She didn't know why they were laughing at her, she was always alone in the crowd, or at least she thought she was. She always had the feeling of someone in command of the ball, someone watching her every move, more so than anyone else in the room. The confusion filled her mind now, as the soft, beautiful tones of the music flooded her ears.

She knew it was here, whatever it was she had lost, and these people were trying to keep her from it. She pushed through a cluster of them, noticing that they were all lithe and beautiful and decadent. If she looked closely, she suspected she'd find that in the corners more than a few of them were engaged in even more risqué pursuits. Around her the dancers spun, turning to look at her scornfully.

Frustrated, she tried to climb the stairs only to be stopped by a group of revelers who were busy playing a game with mirrors. One of them turned a mirror toward her and she paused, surprised by her reflection. A beautiful woman-child in a fairy-tale gown of white gold and silver looked back at her. Her hair was an elaborate construction of curls and silver leaves and cobwebs, with jewels winking out of the dark strands.

She tensed. No, this wasn't right. She wasn't this girl anymore. She didn't want to be the innocent and unwitting teenager, she was tired of this getup…

A flash of sapphire blue at the top of the stairs caught her eye and she turned again. Whatever it was was gone. She was beginning to feel angry now. She pushed past the dancers and climbed the stairs. A feathered fan fluttered beside her, and she smelled something wild, dark, and untamed - roses, earth, musk... Again, she spun toward it to find nothing but more masks, more dancers. She went back down the stairs, and a gloved hand reached out and touched her hair as she passed, she turned just in time to see the sapphire blue coat and a wisp of long, silver blonde hair vanish in the other direction.

"Stop!" she screamed, her frustration was finally past the breaking point. "Stop it!" She began to pull at the silver wires in her hair. She screamed and ripped them all out one by one until her hair was disheveled and frayed like a wild thing.

And then everything became as it was before. People were not wearing masks, there was gold and black velvet décor, and she was wearing her dark red gown again. No one was looking or laughing at her. She ran her hands over hair and found it was smooth and in soft waves. But she was shaking badly, and her heart was pounding so hard it was becoming difficult to breathe.

Staggering, and without caring who saw her, Sarah rushed to the darker interior hallways. She found an isolated corner and backed against the wall, still trying to catch her breath. Inhaling and exhaling carefully, she was slowly starting to regain her whereabouts. Her panic was like fighting the tunnel vision that came before passing out, in fact she felt like she was going to if she didn't calm herself down. She took a few more deep breaths and put her hand over chest, silently willing her heart to slow.

Why did that memory always cause her to panic? Up until now, her dreams of the white ballroom were fragmented and unclear. And she was sick to death of it. None of it made any sense to her. The real, vague memories she had were always the same – people in masks, her in a gossamer ballgown that would look far too immature on her now, and soft, almost seductive music. She had never remembered why she was there in the first place. What was the reason behind it? And why did it feel like someone important was always there watching her? What did they want? The worst part now was that someone important had touched her. No one had ever tried to do that before.

Sarah shook her head. Too many questions she couldn't possibly try to answer now. The Labyrinth had too many secrets and riddles, perhaps this would always remain one of them. She took one more deep breath, straightened her back from the wall and smoothed her gown again for the hundredth time that night. With her clear eyesight, Sarah scanned the room for a moment before she was able to find Bruce in the melee of people. She had had enough for one night, she was ready to grab Bruce and leave.

She began to make her way through the crowded room, but suddenly stopped short when she saw a tall, slender woman approach him. Though the woman was neither striking nor sensuous, she had an air of authority about her; an outward confidence that Sarah was sorely lacking. If Sarah were to envy anyone in this room, it would have been this woman.

Sarah slipped away in a corner to avoid being seen and managed to hear their hushed conversation from a safe distance.

"Bruce Wayne…" the woman greeted him in a mocking tone.

Bruce had not seen her approach him, and was caught off guard, but his voice was warm. "Hello, Rachel." He smiled, his eyes becoming brighter as he took her in his gaze.

"It's been a long time."

"We've both been busy."

"Yeah, I'm sure you have." She paused, and looked him up and down, assessing him. "I heard about the theater. I'm sorry, it was so beautiful. But you seemed to keep the silver lining, I hear you're still attached to the actress. I'm happy for you Bruce, really."

Bruce's voice became lower. "It's nothing, Rachel."

"Don't say that," she hissed, shaking her head. "Don't say that to _me_. I've heard all the rumors. That she's been living with you for months…"

"It's more complicated than you know."

She sighed, sadly. "It always is..."

Sarah suddenly couldn't hear anymore. Her blood was pumping hot, her heartbeat drowned out all other sound. She felt a lump growing in the pit of her stomach; a sick, terrible realization had hit her. She shook her head as she began to feel flushed, she could feel her skin start to overheat. The liquid fire that was running through her veins and pooling in her chest made it difficult for Sarah to keep her thoughts straight.

Jealousy and betrayal.

The air surrounding her seemed to crackle with an energy that danced over Sarah's skin. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to hear the rest of their conversation and left the party without a word to anyone.


	2. The End is a Beginning

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Labyrinth or DC.

* * *

Sarah sat down in front of her vanity mirror, surrounded by small mementos and an old picture of her mother. Even though she saw her picture nearly every day, Sarah didn't really think much about her mother these days, they hadn't even spoken to each other since before she left for Metropolis over five years ago.

Her mother had been happy for her at the time, but looking back, Sarah remembered that she had thought too highly of herself at twenty-two years old, that she could make it on talent alone and not depend on her looks like she thought her mother had. Maybe it was true, or maybe she was jealous of her mother, even angry at her for pursuing her dreams over her own daughter. And so, Sarah began to break away from her in anger and disappointment. In return, her mother never bothered to reach out to her at all these last few years, and she had let her daughter drift away. Perhaps her mother had become jealous of her too. She was young, beautiful, talented, and full of opportunities she didn't have enough of anymore.

Tears stung Sarah's eyes. There were painful fractures that were started on both sides and a vicious, draining cycle that couldn't be broken.

Her throat started to clench again. She put the picture of her mother away in her tote bag, because whatever unresolved issues she had with her could wait for now. She was avoiding a much larger problem. She had not been on the stage for almost a year. The events of the night the theater was destroyed had stopped her from even considering walking into a theater again. She didn't know if she could face another stage or the dark, empty expanse of an auditorium. All she saw when she tried to picture it was fire and smoke and death.

She couldn't bear to remember the blood and the screams, and so she forced it out of her mind, along with her dashed dreams of the stage.

She blinked back the tears and looked down at her vanity and the familiar items upon it. Her lipstick. She put a little on while looking at herself in the mirror. She used to do this all the time as a teenager. It made her feel like a beautiful princess, or a desirable, grown woman.

" _Being a grown up is nothing like what they told you in the storybooks,"_ she thought wearily. _"If only being someone else was simpler."_

She sighed and threw her lipstick back on the dresser. It landed next to the white feather Bruce had given her. The glaring white blurred her vision of anything else. It seemed to burn at the corner of her eye, tempting her to look straight at it…

A sharp prick at the base of her neck signaled a presence behind her. She could feel Bruce appearing at her doorway. He had such a powerful air of authority, and what was worse, he could easily and stealthily sneak up behind you and you would never know until he was breathing down your neck, too late for escape.

But Sarah could hear him breathing behind her in short breaths, his heartbeat fast and short, it was him who hesitated walking in, she could feel his anxiety and apprehensiveness. It was not like him at all.

"You left without me last night." He almost sounded hurt, but Sarah didn't turn or look up. "Alfred said you weren't feeling well." Still no response from her. "These kinds of things, those people, will eat you alive."

Sarah could hear the sneer in his voice, and nearly scoffed at his hypocrisy. "But you still protect them," she said, grabbing her lipstick again and throwing it in her bag.

He was silent for a moment, considering. "In a way, I suppose."

Sarah finally turned and looked him up and down. He was barefoot, in sweats and a plain grey shirt. She had always preferred him like this, and the sight of him nearly made her heart collapse in grief.

"And you didn't come home last night," she said quietly.

He shrugged indifferently. "I had other business."

He wasn't trying to hide anything. Whatever happened between him and Rachel stayed at the party. His other business involved becoming his other half, his demon…

"I need to talk to you," he said quietly.

This was it – the talk. Sarah steeled herself, preparing for the emotional turmoil. She tossed her bag down and straightened her back. "What do you need to talk about?'

"What do you remember the night of the theater?"

She froze, stunned that he had asked her this. She was prepared to talk about another woman… He had never asked her this before or even brought up the subject. It had been several months past, but they never talked about the events of that night. Sarah took a moment to compose herself and mentally shift gears.

"Why are you asking me this?"

Bruce started to walk into her room, slowly. "I want to know what you remember. I want you to tell me everything."

Sarah was clearly confused, and a little apprehensive. "Why?"

"Please, Sarah." He never broke eye contact as he knelt before her. "It may help us understand…" he looked down at her hands.

She looked down at her hands too and stretched out her fingers. "The way I am," she finished saying what he could not.

He slowly turned his eyes back up to her and waited for her to speak.

She took a moment to breathe. She didn't like to think about that night; about the Scarecrow and Yuri, and the flames… she shuddered. Bruce leaned forward but didn't reach for her. "Why did you go there?" he asked her, his gaze level. "What did you think you were going to do?"

"I wanted to help you…" it was a pathetic answer and she knew it. How could she have helped? What could she have done? Looking back, she really didn't have a very good reason for it. She was relying on a band of small goblins for help.

"I know, but how?" He asked, echoing her thoughts. "How did you think you were going to help _me_?"

"I…" she shook her head and looked away, knowing the answer, but it seemed unconvincing to her now that she tried to remember. "I went because… I knew… who could stop the Russians and Maroni's men…"

Bruce's steely grey eyes bored into her. "Anyone in particular?"

"No…" her eyes became misty, she was confused at doubting her own memory. It all seemed wrong to her somehow. But how could she know that something was missing? It was maddening that she both couldn't remember and couldn't tell him plainly. He would think that she was completely mad that she had goblin friends. "No, there wasn't one person… there were more than one..."

"What else do you remember?" His tone was sharp and impatient.

"Scarecrow…" she shivered again. "And mirrors… I broke them all. Smoke and fire… I remember almost suffocating on it, and then you came..."

Bruce blinked and came even closer. "What about the stage when Yuri pulled the grenade?"

She looked at him with worry. Why was he asking these questions? She was beginning to feel herself cower under his gaze. But she couldn't understand why. Usually she could stand up to Bruce with no qualms, but these memories made her uneasy, they were traumatic yes, but they also felt wrong to her… like she was missing a key piece of the events of the night, but she simply couldn't pinpoint it.

His mouth was becoming taut with frustration, and Sarah realized with surprise, a little fear.

"The stage blew apart and he fell below. We escaped through the roof from there."

Bruce sighed, and looked upon her with sadness suddenly. The trepidation replaced with pity. "You don't remember…"

"Remember what?" Sarah was fed up with his questions and his coldness. It seemed like he knew something that she clearly didn't know or couldn't remember, and the worst part was he wouldn't tell her what it was.

"What is it you want me to say?"

Bruce sighed again and began to reach out to touch her hands. But before he could touch her, before he could speak, and before she even registered rational thought, she blurted out, "I'm leaving."

Bruce looked as if she had just slapped him in the face. He stiffened and dropped his arms away from her.

She ignored the pained look of complete and utter shock and started to stand. "I'm leaving, today."

Bruce held her by her arms. "Sarah…" She started to pull away, but he held her close, as hard as he possibly could. "Sarah…" She tensed and pulled further. With his incredible strength, he could barely keep her from standing.

"Get off of me!" She screamed, and finally pushed him away. He stumbled backward but didn't lose his footing. She took deep, heavy breaths, trying to control the feelings of rage and distrust that was forming in her stomach. "What are you doing?" she asked, exasperated. "I'm nothing… compared to her… you actually love her. You _love_ her."

Bruce shook his head. "Sarah, you're not nothing. You do mean something to me. Sarah, I'm sorry." He kept shaking his head and pursing his lips. "I'm sorry… she…"

"Well," she laughed bitterly, a horrible sound coming from her. "At least you don't deny it."

"Sarah, it's…" He sealed his lips, his chest moving up and down slowly. He was clearly upset but trying hard not to show it. This only enraged Sarah further. Even now he couldn't open himself to her.

An intense gleam struck from her eyes. "Please don't tell me that it's complicated. Don't you tell the both of us the same, sad story."

"I was worried about you."

" _Don't_. Stop worrying about me."

He looked at her. "I like worrying about you."

Sarah's face nearly collapsed as she forced back another sob. "Will you stop?" she murmured, she felt like she was crumbling from the inside out. "Don't you know how much this is killing me…?"

He became very still, and his limbs became stiff with nervous tension. He so much wanted to go to her and hold her like he used to. But it did not feel right or fair, not anymore.

"Do you love me?" She had thought about this many times. She supposed that now was as good a time as any. Not that it would have made much of a difference.

Bruce smoothly closed the distance that Sarah had forced between them. "Do you love _me_?"

She stared at him wide eyed. Did she love him? It surprised her that she hadn't thought of this, though it was a simple question. She was deeply attracted to him, she had been since they locked eyes during her final bows in 'Pygmalion'. How could she not have been? He was handsome, charming, attentive, rich… Sarah hated to admit it, but his wealth did add to the allure. But where she was really committed was the fact that he had saved her life – numerous times. How could she ever repay him for that? The only way she thought she knew how was to become loyal to him. Not obey his every command but to commit herself to him fully. No more self-restraint or denial. She opened herself to him because she thought that was what people did in a relationship. But this wasn't a normal relationship, and he had changed the night the theater burned down. He didn't light up the way he used to when she walked into a room, he didn't give her fleeting touches, or even tease her like he used to anymore.

Something, everything, had changed. And there was no going back.

"I thought I did," she admitted quietly. "You opened yourself to me completely once… But nothing has been the same since that night."

For a moment he stared deeply into her eyes. Grey shifting into the dark night of obsidian, then back again. He pulled her into him suddenly, finally abandoning what he thought was right and wrong, and took her in a tight embrace.

She let him hold her, and in return, she clung to him, trying not to collapse under the weight of all the conflicting emotions and cutting words that came out after a long and troubled time.

* * *

Sarah wandered into the crowded pub, peeking over heads of people that were gossiping and laughing with each other until she found her friend, Ilana, sitting at the bar. Sarah cut her way into the crowd and plopped into the bar seat next to her.

"Hey," Sarah said, slipping off her purse strap. "Sorry, the subway was packed." She brightened at the beer waiting for her. "Oh, thank you!" She grabbed it and started guzzling it down.

"No problem," Ilana smiled, clearly relieved to not be alone at the bar any longer. "The weather is not that great either. Hey, take it easy!"

"Sorry," Sarah stopped drinking to breathe. "I'm so thirsty." She put down the half empty glass and looked to her friend. "Okay! So, I brought up the rest of my boxes, put the key on my keychain, left a check on the table, and I am officially moved into your place."

"Cheers to that!" Ilana raised her glass. They clinked glasses and took a drink. "How do you like being in Metropolis again?" Ilana asked while raking her fingers in her thick hair to make a ponytail.

"Great!" Sarah said enthusiastically as she shrugged off her jacket. "I feel like I'm back where I should be. I don't have any doubts and I don't have any regrets for leaving Gotham."

Ilana saluted her with her drink and took another sip. She looked at the TV playing over the bartender's head and abruptly put her glass down. "Speaking of Gotham…"

Sarah followed Ilana's gaze and her good mood suddenly crumbled.

On the screen was a shot of the exterior of Gotham city hall. People were looking up, screaming and pointing to something swinging on a flagpole… someone in the pub behind Sarah and Ilana screamed. The chatter around them died down, and everyone turned to watch Batman hanging by his neck, his mouth roughly painted in a demonic clown smile. Dead.

Batman was lowered from the flagpole on the television by a graphic that read 'BATMAN DEAD?'

Sarah knew immediately that that wasn't Batman hanging by his neck. He would never dress in such a flimsy, lightly padded suit. This was a zealous vigilante who had gotten in way over his head. She felt immense pity for this man who wanted to do something good but was sorely undisciplined and unprepared for the consequences.

The image on the television cut to a blond newscaster. She could barely hear what he was saying because of the troubled murmur throughout the pub. But someone screamed, "QUIET!" And nearly everyone complied immediately.

" ...Police released video footage found concealed on the body. Sensitive viewers be aware: it is disturbing."

The image cut to a middle-aged man wearing the Batman costume, his face under the mask bruised and bloody, his hands tied behind him in a bright, fluorescent-lit room.

A voice from behind the camera spoke. It was eerily playful, a slithery drawl with a rasping high-pitched grate. It made Sarah's blood run cold. She suddenly froze on the spot. She knew that voice. It belonged to the stuff of her nightmares.

The entire pub suddenly became deathly quiet at the image on the screen and the sound of the disembodied voice.

"Tell them your name."

The man's voice was weak. "Brian Douglas."

"Are you the real Batman?"

"No."

"No?" A sinister chuckle as the camera came closer to Brian. "Then why do you dress up like him?" A hand ripped off the mask and dangled it front of the camera, tauntingly.

"He's a symbol…" Brian started, "that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you..."

"But you do, Brian. You really do." The hand started grabbing Brian by the neck and then smoothing out his forehead making shushing noises as Brian became more agitated. "You think the Batman's helped Gotham?"

Brian nodded uncertainly...

"Look at me" the voice demanded. Brian looked down. "LOOK AT ME!"

Sarah shrank at the distinct change of tone in the voice. It was demonic, the sound of unfathomable anger trapped inside of a psychopath. When the camera turned, Sarah held a hand over her mouth. She thought she was going to be sick as everything she had seen in her nightmares suddenly revealed themselves. The face of the Joker, in chalk-white makeup, a red smear of lipstick on his stretched mouth. He could have been an excessive heroine addict, but there was the conscious corruption and horrible decay slathered all over his scarred face.

"See?" the Joker sneered. "This is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham? Batman has to go. So..." he leaned into the camera, "Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't... people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word." The Joker started to laugh showing a row of yellow and rotting teeth. Brian started to scream…

The tape cut to static and eventually switched back to the newscaster. Sarah continued to stare openmouthed in horror. The Joker was far worse than she had ever imagined.

The pub was eerily silent, people started to walk out and into the streets. The jovial mood inside had collapsed into sheer dread. No one seemed to want to speak of what they just saw.

"What… the hell was that?" Sarah heard Ilana ask.

Without looking away from the television, Sarah responded quietly. "It's happening..."

* * *

For the next few days Sarah, and the rest of Metropolis, watched in horror as chaos in Gotham quickly escalated to a terrifying crescendo. People were glued to television sets in pubs, the streets, and cafes; their eyes were scanning The Daily Planet and GNN for the latest updates.

Policemen in Gotham were killed outright, high-ranking officials were assassinated, fires in the streets, people attempting to escape the city… Sarah watched helplessly as Batman dove deeper and deeper into the abyss she knew he couldn't escape from. And she couldn't help him this time.

Photos of the deceased were appearing on every screen throughout the city. Sarah was shocked to see the image of the woman Bruce had talked to at the party emblazoned on the news. The woman he truly loved… she felt an overwhelming wave of guilt and pity wash over her for both Bruce and for this woman. She had done nothing wrong, she had not deserved to die.

Sarah, and the rest of the city, could barely stand the news coming from Gotham. How could Bruce possibly cope with it anymore? She had images of him, bloody and bruised, collapsing from exhaustion, pushed to the brink of near insanity…

Finally, one late summer afternoon, the headlines were blasted all over Metropolis square: 'Batman Kills Harvey Dent', 'Batman Disappears', 'Batman Wanted for Murder of Gotham DA.'

In his destructive battle of wits with the Joker, Batman finally pushed his own ethical boundaries, and was ultimately forced into the shadows.

She was in the lobby of the apartment building when she saw the headlines on the television the clerk kept turned on 24/7 now. Her body went limp as her heart dropped into her stomach. She suddenly struggled to adjust to sudden waves of nausea. But she had warned him before she left, she warned Bruce, because she knew exactly what he would do…

She suddenly ran back to her apartment. She hurried inside and leaned against the door she had slammed behind her.

"He couldn't have…" she whispered. "He couldn't have killed Harvey Dent."

She ran to the phone, picked up the receiver, and dialed the number she kept folded away in her wallet. An old and tired voice answered after several rings.

"Alfred…" she sighed, relieved to hear him.

"Sarah!" It sounded as if he was relieved to hear her voice, perhaps forgetting that the world and its people, were safe outside of Gotham.

"Alfred," her voice was shaking, "is he alright?"

"He's fractured his leg in several places, his ribs are bruised…"

She asked him again, using a different tone. "Is _he_ alright?"

There was a long pause on the other end. She almost asked a third time, but in a very quiet voice, Alfred answered, "No. No, he's not. I'm afraid the price of the Joker came at a heavy cost." Alfred had been trapped in a nightmare just like everyone else, except he saw the terror and destruction right in front of him. He saw someone who was almost like a son to him, fall into a dark obsession with a psychopath who couldn't be reasoned with, much less understood. The city almost fell to ruin and innocent people had died horribly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry." The last sentiment was for Alfred. She knew better than anyone how much this must have pained him. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I… I don't think so, miss. I don't think you can." There was another long pause. Sarah wasn't sure if he hung up or if she would hear Bruce's voice next. The idea of it frightened and excited her.

"Would you like me to tell him that you called?"

Sarah sighed, dejected. "Would it matter?"

"No, miss, I don't think so."

She could feel her throat catching, and her voice shook when she said, "Take care of yourself, Alfred."

"And you, my dear girl, should do the same. Goodbye, Sarah."

They both knew that this might be the last thing they would say to each other. They were final goodbyes. Knowing this, Sarah couldn't say another word and hung up the phone.

* * *

Sarah had the last of her things packed. Most everything had shipped to storage and were now waiting for her. It didn't take her too long to think of where to go. Besides her father and Karen's house, the one place she felt safe and alive was Metropolis. She began to have feelings of regret for ever leaving it in the first place.

She walked slowly, contemplatively down the sleek, white hallway and stopped short at the glass-enclosed living room. She remembered reading her books in here and watching the sun burn the sky orange and red over Gotham.

Now she saw Bruce dressed in his best suit with his hair slicked back, his hands in his pockets, and his back completely rigid. His profile was set like marble. He looked pained, and he took several deep breaths before saying, "I trust you, Sarah." He turned to her, his jaw firm and his cheekbones more prominent. He nodded his head. "Completely."

She knew what he was telling her. "I know," she answered quietly, moving closer to him. "I promise I will never break it."

Despite all the hurt and anger Bruce had brought to her, she still cared about him deeply. He had reached a shadow side inside of her that she never knew existed and touched it, even if it was merely a touch.

"You have never gone against your principles," she said, nearing closer to him and savoring his warmth, "and you have never given into your hate and your fears to justify your means. But you're still a man," she murmured, half-lifting a hand to touch his face, "nothing but wits, body, and will. You would do anything to achieve your dream of justice, but you never resorted to murder, not even for Yuri..."

Sarah realized what she was doing and let her finger freeze, a centimeter from Bruce's handsome face. He remained still. His eyes were cold, almost passive. "Don't give in now…" she whispered to him, letting her hand fall.

* * *

Sarah's eyes were distant as she recalled some of what she had said to him just before she left. They both knew the path he was quietly heading toward. But she knew she couldn't help him anymore, and after Rachel died, that had been his breaking point. Now he was completely subdued in his darkness. She knew he was too far into that night to ever reach him and bring him out.

Sarah didn't know when she left her apartment again. She walked around her neighborhood in a daze. Everyone, not just her, was completely subdued and on edge. Gotham had been in an all-out war. Their hero had become the enemy. What if that came here? What would they do? What would become of Gotham now?

Suddenly, all the memories of the Labyrinth came flooding back. It had felt like centuries ago, when it was only eleven years, but now it felt like it had been only yesterday. The memories were crystal clear. It was like the memories were helping overcome her thoughts of Bruce, they were almost overwhelming anything else she tried to think of. They were unnaturally clear, so remarkably, magically vivid.

She walked on through the late afternoon sun. It was warm, despite the fading light. But she held her arms around her waist, pulling her arms closer to her body. She saw the park gates ahead and decided that it was as good a place as any to go. She stared at the trees lined up against the fence; the sunlight that surrounded them. These trees, perfectly sculptured and tidy, reminded her of the hedge maze. The stone balustrades that protruded looked like the stone maze she had to answer a riddle in. She walked over to the fountain in the center of the park. It was beautiful, the way the drops of water caught the light, like gold stars. She stared into it.

" _You are safe…"_

She turned around. Nothing. The words seemed to have floated in on the breeze and floated out again. Sarah knew that voice. The sensuous, yet almost emotionless sound. Tainted by shadows of desire, cruelty, and love.

"Imagination," she said quietly, as if to reassure herself.

Then, as if on the light breeze once more, she heard a distinct sigh. A quiet, understanding kind of sigh. As if someone had heard her. It was almost a laugh. But it ended with a decidedly soothing tone to it. She scanned the entire park. Nothing.

" _Safe…"_

This time, the voice had been clear, distinct, and more insistent. Only inches behind her. And very, very real. Sarah turned around. Nothing. She was overcome with uncertainty. The voice was so close and so familiar. Who was it? She knew it!

She began to walk out of the park. Away from the fountain. Away from the voice. She was uneasy. Not only from the voice but from the truth behind the words. She _was_ safe. She left Gotham within weeks of the chaos that ensued. If she had stayed, she would have certainly been involved in the fray. If she stayed, she would now either drift in the same darkness with Bruce, or be dead. Someone would have found her again. If not the Joker, then another psychopath.

As she was nearly out of the park, something made her look up. Dazzling colors swirled around her, mingling and dancing like rainbows generated by an ever-moving prism, swirling until they merged into the mossy hue of a tree. Sarah focused on the image of the tree before her, and she felt her back meet with something cold and hard. A stone pillar, she realized. The image of the tree dancing with colors finally settled into an oak, green and ancient.

Something caught the corner of her vision. Sarah turned her head up to the tree. Her heart froze, eyes widening in shock. An owl sat there on the almost bare branches. A snowy-white owl. Its eyes, an unusual blue-grey, pinned her to the spot. She stared at it, transfixed, her mouth agape in wonder… and recognition. She had seen this owl before, on the night she went to the Labyrinth. It had been there, in the park. Watching her and Merlin as she studied the words to the play. And then later, in her living room, after she had returned. It meant something to her, but what?

She began to move toward it slowly as they stared at each other. Sarah moved her mouth to speak but no sound came. The owl remained perfectly still, and she almost thought she could reach out and touch its snowy, white feathers, so like the one Bruce had given her…

Then, before she could lift her hand, it spread its wings and flew away. Sarah looked up and tried to follow its path through the blue sky. She saw it far above, circling as no owl ever did. It came between Sarah and the sun, then disappeared.

She watched the sky frantically for a moment, wondering if she'd been seeing things.

Sarah sank back onto the ground, eyes wide and stunned. That same feeling of loss and confusion enveloped her again. Her eyes raised back to the sky, waiting and watching for something. But what? Of her own accord, her lips moved, and words were almost whispered under her breath.

"What do I do?"

* * *

 **Shalom y Amor**


	3. Imagine the Fire

Five Years Later

Sarah looked over her students and locked eyes with each one as she walked inside the circle that her students made around her. "I urge you," she started, "not to waste your audience's time with recitation of someone else's creation — create your own. Share with your audience your understanding of the theme, but also, share your understanding of the human condition by using your sense of the dramatic. Yes, make them laugh, make them cry. But make them remember you! Send chills up your own spine first and send that energy toward your audience."

They listened to her, enraptured by her fervor of the act of transcendence.

"But you must stay focused on the moment and have no attention to waste on thoughts of counting phrases, your annoyances with your costume, or your significant other. Your antennae must be completely open and operational." Sarah stopped walking in the circle and paused to take a breath. "Performing seems magical at times. Because for those few moments only _you_ have the unquestioned authority to imprint your reality to their memory."

Some of them shifted their weight, or smiled, or nodded. But they all listened. She looked them all over, about twenty of them, and smiled. She could still captivate an audience. She held out her hands. "You all have a tremendous gift. Use it wisely. Go Team Red."

They laughed and began to disperse, gathering their things and shutting down for the afternoon. Her old cast mate from the Bella Tragedia Company, Connor, stayed behind with Sarah. He, and his then fiancée, left Gotham immediately after the chaos five years ago and never looked back.

Upon returning to Metropolis, Sarah decided to return to theater, though as an assistant to her old mentor, Professor Lambie, who was close to retiring. Within months, her intelligence and experience with acting were quickly noticed, and people respected her. She became both an acting coach and creative director for the Academy, which was turning into a well-recognized institution with wealthy donors that were finally starting to turn their heads.

Sarah had always seemed mysterious and different, though she was highly independent and self-sufficient. She was imaginative, quick-witted, and had great enthusiasm for her work that others found inspiring and charming. She was sometimes friendly and sociable, affectionate and loving; possessing a good deal of charisma. But Sarah could also be moody and subject to rapid ups and downs. Unless you were an old friend, she was hard to get to know personally and could at times become withdrawn, superficial, and temperamental. Emotional and sensitive, and sometimes presenting criticism where none was intended.

Unfortunately, Sarah's deeply felt emotions could not be avoided or suppressed. But she possessed the talent to channel these feelings into a creative and artistic form. Her success as an instructor in the theater depended on her ability to commit to her work and to see it through to completion. She had so much creativity and upward energy that she was sometimes in desperate need of an anchor. Hard work and discipline served this purpose and brought out the best in her.

She was, like most, a seeker awed by the mysteries of life on a journey through her own labyrinth of darkness and light - trying to express the unfathomable wonders of her experiences. Without actually telling a soul. She was trying to understand, to heal herself and others around her, to inspire as she was inspired to create beauty, share struggles, pleasure, pain and ecstasy. It was easy to find an audience in Metropolis. She was thriving creatively here among like minded artists and patrons of the arts.

Yet she still had nightmares. It became so bad several years ago that poor Ilana wasn't able to live with her anymore. She didn't know how to manage Sarah's night terrors without becoming a nervous wreck herself. They were both losing sleep and becoming increasingly miserable. Until finally, Sarah decided to find her own place to save the friendship. She ended up moving into a decent one-bedroom in the middle of Chinatown above a mini market. She didn't mind it so much. The apartment was comfortable and free of pests, and sometimes the owners of the market were nice enough to give her some of their home cooked meals.

But she would be lying if she said she wasn't lonely at times. It was so much easier to just pretend to be happy and free. To fit in with the crowds, to become adaptable in her personal and professional life. To be a chameleons of sorts. She was beginning to see that short-term comfort was creating long term pain. But the only way forward for her was keeping her head down and immersing herself in her work. It was easy to do.

The old Metropolis academy was beginning to look dilapidated from years of use and not enough in the budget for years until just recently. Instead of putting in thousands of donation money into repairs, they decided to move and establish a new venue just next to a small city park, which was a more aesthetically pleasing location for a theater rather than in the middle of a busy and crowded neighborhood.

On late summer afternoons like this, Sarah and Connor would have informal meetings after teaching classes. After the last of their students had left or read lines on their own, they sat on the grass, each sighing heavily and finished discussing final plans for their next production, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. After a time, she lay back on the grass, resting on her arm and idly plucked at the tips of the grass.

"What do you think?" Connor asked.

"It should be fine," Sarah replied absently. "Shakespeare is not limited to a time or place."

"True, we'd have to get new props."

"There's enough in the budget."

"Even for the sitar player?"

"She should be our first priority."

"I'll let her know then." He stood up and dusted off his pants. "Any plans tonight?" She shook her head in response. "What? Go out, enjoy the city, meet some people. It's Friday night!"

"And?" She looked up, furrowing her brow. "I need to start brainstorming costumes, makeup, choreography..."

He sighed and held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. Don't work too hard. Later!"

"Bye," she called after him.

She knew what Connor was trying to get at. Sarah hadn't been on a date in months. Really, she hadn't had a relationship or dated anyone in years. For anyone else, it would have been social suicide to admit to such a thing. But for her, it simply wasn't worth it. Her relationship with Bruce had been both exhilarating and traumatizing. But she didn't need that turmoil in her life again. She simply couldn't bear another heartbreak.

* * *

Sarah cradled her cup and watched the raindrops slither down the windowpane, illuminated blue and purple by the neon light of the dim sum restaurant across the street.

Hoggle sat next to her, blowing on the surface of his ceramic cup before taking a sip. "Hmm," he mused, looking down at his cup. "What is this again?"

"Reishi," Sarah answered. "It's a mushroom. It's supposed to help with longevity, and memory…" she took a sip. "I got it from the herbal store down the street. It's not bad."

"Not bad at all," Hoggle said empathetically. "Nothin' like this in the Underground. Maybe I can take some for barter."

Electra leapt onto Hoggle's lap just then and he gave her a few pats on the head before moving on to Sarah. Sarah stroked the cat's long and lithe back absently.

One evening several years ago, Sarah was making her way home through an alley in Chinatown. A spry ball of red and white fur pounced on top of a trashcan, immediately catching Sarah's attention. They locked eyes and Sarah reached out to scratch her neck. The kitten allowed her and dove her head into the palm of Sarah's hand. Sarah smiled, her heart melting. It looked up at her with its yellow eyes and opened its mouth to cry, but no sound came. Sarah started to walk on, but the kitten darted after her and followed Sarah all the way back to her apartment. She smiled and sighed. "Oh, I suppose." She picked it up gently and cradled the kitten next to her chest. "You wouldn't be the strangest creature to show up unexpectedly."

Later that night Sarah began to wake from a nightmare and a small weight near her head kept her still. She woke up in a daze to find the kitten curled up in the crook of her neck, effectively paralyzing her. If it was comfortable there then was no way she would disturb a sleeping kitten. She fell back asleep, comforted by the weight and the presence of a small beast next to her. She decided to name her Electra after her favorite Broadway show and from mythology…

Sarah brought her thin blanket closer around her. It was early September, but the nights were starting to drop in temperature. She looked away from the window towards Hoggle. The large lines on his face were becoming more deeply etched. How does a dwarf age? "I've never talked with you about this before, but I need to say something now."

"Yeah…" he answered perplexed by the intensity within the statement.

"Stop blaming yourself for not answering my calls."

Hoggle blinked, taken back by her request, "How... err, don't know what you mean... " he trailed off not knowing what to say. They had never talked about their absence in Gotham. She never liked to bring it up. But it was an unspoken tension that had remained, especially between her and Hoggle. Ever since Gotham, he had seemed withdrawn from her, almost like a weight was still on his shoulders. She gathered that it was because he couldn't answer her calls for help when she most needed it. Hoggle told her that a horde of dark goblins had taken over for a time but eventually the Underground had righted itself again.

Sarah smiled at the way Hoggle's face flushed, "Just don't okay. Promise me this."

"I... I promise," he answered at last still slightly bewildered by her request. There were a few moments of silence between them, but it was peaceful and comfortable. "Well," he grunted and pushed himself to a standing position. "I gotta run. Faeries to spray and whatnot."

Sarah smiled. "Hoggle…" Hoggle turned to her and gave her the side eye. "The mushrooms are no good after you've steeped them."

Hoggle sighed. "It was worth a shot." He held his hand up and the damp remnants of mushroom dropped into his empty cup. He began to shuffle over to the far wall. "I'll see ya later. Thanks for the tea." He stopped suddenly and paused for a moment to turn to her. "You, uh, might wanna turn on the TV."

Sarah cocked her head at him. He didn't wait for a response and abruptly turned on his heel and left through the closet door.

She smiled wanly and clicked the remote. GNN appeared on the screen with the headline, BREAKING NEWS, along the bottom of a live video of cops mobilizing around Gotham – cars, vans, and choppers flashing their colors of red, white, and blue. The screen then changed to a massive two-wheeled sort of motorcycle equipped with cannons tearing along the street, pursued by a mass of cruisers, and choppers overhead. A familiar figure was maneuvering the motorcycle with ease.

Sarah's heart leapt into her throat. "No way…" she breathed. She leaned forward, her blood rushing to her face, she couldn't control the twitch of a grin that wanted to form on her face.

" _Is it really him?"_ she thought. _"He's been in the shadows for so long… why now?"_

The motorcycle executed a ninety-degree turn, the wheels flipping over as it went, then tore into the darkness of a large alley. Cruisers and choppers blocked the mouth of the alley. A few moments later, spotlights smashed on from the darkness and a massive dark cyclone roared out, a dual rotor downdraft forcing all the cops to the ground. A huge, flying machine thundered up and over the entire Gotham PD then disappeared within seconds.

Sarah stared at the TV. She was biting her thumbnail nervously but smiling with glee. "Yeah, that was him."

* * *

It had taken Sarah longer than usual to fall asleep with the excitement of seeing Bruce… Batman again. Why did he come back now after all this time? Seeing him again left her feeling in a blur of nervous anticipation. Something brought him out, but what? Or rather, who? Naturally, her mind wouldn't shut down and it took several hours to even begin to feel like she was drifting into a dreamless sleep.

But her body was suddenly set on edge, and her brain snapped to attention when she heard a faint rustle at the foot of her bed. Her eyes flew open as she listened, her blood pumping in her ears. The rustle again tinged with a tiny, squeaky voice muttering to itself…

She gasped and sat up, flinging her blankets to the side. Through the cracks of her curtains the blue neon light shone on a small body reacting to her. One large, feathery ear popped up and shivered like a leaf. She supposed it was more afraid of her reaction than she was of it. Still, she was irritated that it was digging through her things in the middle of the night when she should be asleep.

"I know what you are! What do you want?"

It responded in a small, shrill voice. "Only sweets."

Sarah became even more irritated. She reached for a bag of Hershey's that one of her students had given her and threw it at the creature's silhouette on the floor. "There!" The little creature tore the bag open and shoved his face in. "What are you doing here?"

The head came up from the bag briefly. "We're guard goblins."

"We?" she asked sharply.

The goblin threw a chocolate up to the edge of her nightstand next to her. A thin silhouette with long arms perched on the edge caught the candy and started devouring it.

Sarah jumped slightly for not having seen it before. "How many of you are there?"

"Just two."

She shifted her weight. "What do you guard?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

It took her a minute to think, and she shook her head when she figured it out. " _Me_? What about Toby?"

"Toby not see us much anymore. But we still see him. _You_ ," she could see a finger pointed at her, "need us more."

"Says who?"

"Says us."

Sarah watched them rip apart the wrappings and inhale the chocolates, licking them first and then shoving them into their mouths. Sarah paused for a moment, regarding them calmly and with a straight face. "You're guard goblins, then. Like guardian angels?"

"They do big jobs," the one perched on her nightstand answered. "We do small."

"So they do exist."

"Lady, you're lookin' at two wee goblins eatin' your bag of chocolates. Have a little imagination."

"And respectability!" The one on the floor scolded with another finger pointed in the air.

"You mean humility," she corrected.

"That too!"

She sat up and reached to flick on her table lamp. The room filled with a soft light and she could see their features more clearly. The goblin on the floor was a two-toned red and mossy green with a sloping head and two long ears that resembled maple leaves. The goblin on her nightstand had an owl-like face with a brown and gold crested mohawk that went down the length of its back. They both had dark, piercing eyes with elongated hands and feet. Despite them claiming to be guard goblins, they didn't wear any armor or carry any weapons.

Curious, Electra came close to the one on the floor and sniffed his head. He barely acknowledged her, and Electra not smelling anything to fuss over, walked away.

Sarah watched the silent exchange curiously. She supposed she shouldn't worry too much if Electra wasn't bothered by a goblin devouring bad chocolates. "So why couldn't Hoggle, Ludo, or Sir Didymus be here? Why you two?"

"We be the best," the goblin on the floor answered. "We do the work, and hard work it is."

She watched them finish the last of her chocolates. "Yes, I can see that."

The one sitting on the nightstand caught her tone and his mohawk bristled. "Listen. We here because _you_ need us. We _guuuarrrddd_. Remember that."

"Fine," she gave in, and brought her knees to her chest. "What are your names?"

"Oh, now we exchange pleasantries?" The mohawk quivered again but with a shake of its head, the feathers and fur lay back against his back and he seemed to settle. "Zĩtzĩ," he pointed to himself.

"Aêlst," the goblin on the floor grumbled.

Sarah looked back and forth at the two goblins and sighed, "It's nice to meet you." Aêlst only burped in response. "If you guard," Sarah continued, "why don't you wear armor? The last goblin fighters I saw had helmets and spears… or maces."

Aêlst wiped the chocolate from his mouth with his long fingers. "Mm… no need for none of that." He finally clapped his long, claw-like hands together in satisfaction.

"Why? Do you just take someone to the Underground?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions!" Zĩtzĩ snapped.

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around a very confusing day."

Aêlst pulled himself up to the foot of her bed, grunting and heaving. "You talk of the bat?" He plopped down and scratched his round head. "We like him!"

"Some don't." Sarah did not like the ice that came from Zĩtzĩ's voice. She looked over and caught him staring daggers at Aêlst. He shook his head again as if brushing off Aêlst's praise of him. "He not very nice to you sometimes."

"I wasn't nice to him sometimes," she said quietly. "But he did save my life… several times." She shuddered at how often she had cheated death. It was because of Bruce that she was still here and in somewhat one piece. "It's complicated."

Aêlst rolled his eyes. "They all say that. You just love someone else…"

"That's enough!" Zĩtzĩ's mohawk was standing straight up and his back was arched as if he were ready to pounce on Aêlst. Aêlst's ears perked up in defense.

"No fighting, please," Sarah scolded. It was like monitoring children and not self-proclaimed warriors. But Sarah had already had enough experience with goblins and creatures from the Underground to know that. "If you plan on staying – "

"We do," Aêlst answered. His teeth were bared at Zĩtzĩ.

"Then _no_ fighting each other. I mean it. I don't care if you're the best guards in the galaxy."

They didn't say anything back to her, but they flared their nostrils at each other one time before their pupils slowly contracted back to normal and Zĩtzĩ's feathered mohawk rested back down to his spine. They leapt to the floor and settled into sleeping positions, albeit with a few grumbles. Sarah didn't turn off the light until they both shut their eyes and were snoring soundly, which didn't take too long. She threw herself back into bed but didn't attempt to close her eyes just yet.

What did Aêlst mean? Who she could have been in love with? She wasn't in love with anyone. She wasn't even dating anyone. Was he talking about someone from the future, or from her past? She shook her head and crooked her arm to lay her head on it. Maybe she just should ignore it. He was a goblin, and goblins were tricky creatures to understand….

* * *

It was a crisp, late October afternoon. The trees had thrown their red and orange leaves over the damp streets and sidewalks like confetti. Sarah walked through the green Dragon Gate and down the avenue of intricate lattice and dome-shaped doorways through her neighborhood. Red dragons and gold phoenixes against blue skies stared at her as she passed, but she stared right back at them. Sarah did not walk the streets in fear these days. Though she lived in a safe neighborhood and Metropolis was for the most part, a cosmopolitan city, it still had its rough neighborhoods. Nevertheless, she avoided those places and practiced her self-defense twice a week and managed to control her strength, and the strange burn that came from her hands. But today she felt a sliver of fear when she noticed the people were strangely not going about their daily routine. They were inside and they were silent. They were watching the televisions. From the corner of her eye, the red dragons seemed to burn a brighter color…

She hurried back to her apartment, noticing that Irene, the fruit vendor, wasn't at her booth, and that her downstairs neighbors didn't greet her. They were deep in conversation with each other and didn't even notice her walking by. She took a deep breath when she walked inside her apartment and tried to shake off her nerves.

Zĩtzĩ was examining cables behind the TV.

"Now what are you doing?" She asked, setting down her bag and keys on the counter.

"Free cable."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "If we get charged, so help me…"

"You worry too much…" Zĩtzĩ pinched two cables together. "Ah ha! Free HBO, here we come! Yipe!" An electrical surge sparked and gave Zĩtzĩ a biting pain of shock. The television came to life.

"… Hundreds of police throughout different tunnels are trapped beneath Gotham…" Sarah stopped what she was doing and slowly turned, looking at the screen with fear. An announcer from GBS, Metropolis' local broadcasting company, looked grim-faced. "Here again is the scene from Gotham earlier today."

It was a football stadium. The crowd went wild as a receiver caught the ball and started to run. As he sprinted for the end zone, the field behind him dropped, actually dropped away in smoking ruins, swallowing players into the abyss. The crowd was not cheering but screaming. The box above the stadium suddenly exploded. It was Armageddon. The entire field was now a smoking mass of rubble, but for one strip of turf as men poured out of the tunnel, creating a gauntlet. Someone climbed out of the tunnel. A man in a bulky coat and a mask over half of his face that looked like silver teeth gnashing outward – it was some kind of breathing apparatus. The eyes behind the mask were cold and still. He surveyed the screaming crowd, lifted an arm for silence, and raised a mike to his mask. The man was like a gladiator walking into the arena.

Zĩtzĩ and Aêlst hesitantly moved closer to the television, as did Sarah. They were all transfixed and horrified at what they were seeing. Sarah instinctively grasped at her diamond and held it at her throat.

The man's voice was thinly accented, like something a rough, bare-knuckle boxer would have spoken. It was callous and gritty, not like the slithery tones of the Joker, but intimidating, nonetheless. "We take Gotham from the corrupt. The rich. The oppressors of generations who've kept you down with the myth of opportunity. And we give it back to you, the people. Gotham is yours - none shall interfere. Do as you please. Step forward, those who would serve. For an army will be raised. The powerful will be ripped from their decadent nests and cast into the cold world the rest of us have known and endured. Courts will be convened. The spoils will be enjoyed. Blood will be shed. But the police will live, until they are ready to serve true justice. This great city will endure. Gotham will survive."

Sarah stared at the man on the television, hugging herself. She had not dreamed any of this. "I've never seen him before. I've had no dreams of…" She stared at Zĩtzĩ and Aêlst, suddenly realizing what had happened since they appeared in her room a couple of weeks ago. She had had no dreams. No night terrors. They were guarding her. They stared back at her, silently confirming her thoughts.

She turned back to the television. _"No,"_ she thought, her heart pounding. _"This could **not** be happening again." _But this was so much worse than the last time. There was no law enforcement to stop anyone from mass anarchy. A thought suddenly stuck her. _"Where is Bruce? Why didn't this man mention Batman? If Bruce was dead… wouldn't this man, or monster, have said something?"_

Sarah couldn't look at him anymore. It was like staring into a massive, dark abyss… She looked away and choked down a sob. "What's happening?" She pleaded at the two little goblins in front of the screen. "Can you tell me what's happening?"

Zĩtzĩ stared at her blankly. She shivered at his dark owl eyes.

Aêlst simply turned back to the television and said, "The fire begins."

* * *

 **AN:** When I first started gaining ideas for this fic, the scene with Sarah meeting the guard goblins was the very first that came into my head and it happened very organically. I wanted to get this chapter out before leaving again to Europe, but I do have the next chapter laid out so there is something to look forward to when I get back! Thank you for reading and reviewing! And thank you to those who have read this from the very beginning!

Shalom y Amor


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